


Festis Bei Umo Canavarum

by Fogerty91



Category: Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age II, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Ambiguous/Open Ending, Bottom Hawke (Dragon Age), Established Relationship, Fluff and Smut, M/M, Sarcastic Hawke (Dragon Age), Top Fenris (Dragon Age)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-29
Updated: 2019-09-29
Packaged: 2020-11-01 15:17:55
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,429
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20817308
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fogerty91/pseuds/Fogerty91
Summary: After the "incident" with Anders, Fenris and Hawke traveled alone for a time. They had to dodge some Templars and Scouts but otherwise Fenris thought things were going quite alright. Until one morning when he wakes to a cold bed and a single note. Hawke had left for Skyhold to help Varric but left Fenris behind in order to protect him. Fenris is less than grateful and hunts down his lifepartner to give him a piece of his mind. They had both made a promise and if Hawke was about to enter a conflict of this magnitude then Fenris' place was at his side, be it in life... or death.





	Festis Bei Umo Canavarum

**Author's Note:**

> I think it's a giant plothole that Hawke left Fenris behind when he went to Skyhold.

Fenris’ POV:

The early morning light woke Fenris up. He turned over in bed, one hand searching for the body which had been a constant presence at his side for the last year, ever since they were forced to leave Kirkwall. When he came up empty, Fenris sleepily opened his eyes, his familiar frown already forming.  
“Garrett?” He searched the room but found it empty. The frown threatened to grow into a scowl. Hawke would never leave without telling him. Slowly, Fenris put his bare feet on the cold wooden floor and crawled out of the warm inviting bed. Hawke and he had been staying in a small hunting cabin in the Frostbacks of Ferelden the last two months and the cabin only had the one room. It only took him seconds to spot the letter on the table. His name was written on the top in Hawkes own hasty handwriting. If Fenris had been concerned before, he now had a sense of dread sneaking up on him. 

Fenris, my love.  
I know that you will be angry with me, but Varric’s last letter made it clear that I am indirectly responsible for this demon mess. It is Corifeus, and apparently I failed to kill him. I need to fix this, or at least help. I will be back before you know it.  
P.S. I did tell you I would work on giving you a few more problems, but this is my fault and I will not put your ass on the line to save me from my own stupidity.  
Yours,  
Hawke

Unconsciously, Fenris’ marks lit up. Growling, he forced himself to put the note down before he destroyed it. That idiot of a man had gone and gotten himself involved again. Fenris should have known that Hawke would not be able to stay away forever. He had only though Hawke would bring him along when he finally decided to play Champion again. Apparently not.  
So what were his choices? Should he track him down, stay here, or leave all together? Fenris’ anger made the latter more appealing. Then he looked down at the note again, and suddenly he knew he could not hide from this. That Hawke had ignored Fenris’ promise to stay at his side made Fenris furious, but he decided he would rather seek Garrett out than let him come to Fenris. This time he would not stop to face the tiger, he would seek it out. Only this time, it was the tiger who should be worried.  
Fenris’ hart was more energetic than him when the Maker forsaken fortress came into view. He was cold and hungry, and neither improved his mood any. Unfortunately, it took him another three hours to reach the gates. A soldier wearing the symbol of the Inquisition halted him before he could enter the stable.  
“One moment, serrah. Before you turn in your mount we need to know the purpose of your visit.”  
Fenris’ hood hid his clear elfish features, which was probably why he had not been addressed more rudely.  
He answered the young soldier. “Business. I’m a friend of Varric Tethras.” He did not want Hawke to know he was here before he had the chance to pounce.  
The man scribbled something on his board before nodding. “Very good. I would recommend that you keep your weapons sheathed, or turn them in during your stay. A drawn weapon will be perceived as a threat unless in the training ring.” Fenris nodded to prove that he’d understood and the guard let him pass.  
Skyhold felt even bigger from inside and old habits made him check for any potential escape routes as he stalked towards what appeared to be the upper court yard. The high walls would make it challenging, but not impossible he decided. He found a few structural weaknesses and it calmed him. Before he could start to wonder where he might find Varric, he came upon a familiar face. At a desk beside the stairs stood a tall blond man with a ridiculous furry collar, Knight Captain Cullen. Fenris had never had a problem with the man but he knew how Hawke felt about him. Garrett despised the Templar Order and Meredith’s right hand man was not a good place to be in regards to Hawke. However, he may know where to find a certain dwarf.  
Fenris pulled down the hood and strode towards him. Cullen did not look up until he’d already reaching him.  
“Cullen.” Fenris voice was his usual emotionless deep baritone and it seemed to startle the Templar into ignoring the papers before him.  
It took him another second or two to speak. “Fenris? What are you… did you come with Hawke?” At least Fenris knew he was in the right place.  
“In a manner of speaking. Do you know where Varric is?”  
“Ah… I believe he is avoiding Seeker Pentaghast. Last I saw him, he was helping with the library.”  
Another pregnant pause  
“And Hawke?” Fenris finally relented.  
Cullen sighed. Apparently Garrett’s feelings were reciprocated. “I cannot be certain. He may be with Varric or haunting the tavern. Those seem to be his preferred choices of entertainment.”  
“Thank you.” Fenris gave him a grateful nod before heading for the stairs. Knowing Varric’s love for taverns he decided to go there first. He could see the establishment as he entered the upper courtyard and there was no mistaking the scent even from outside.  
Alcohol and tobacco.  
The building was worn and dank but it was clear that it was under construction. The ground floor had a few tables and a bar which was really all one needed, thought Fenris. It was reasonably empty, but then again it was still early in the evening.  
“Searching, listening, missing. Where is he?” A voice startled him. Fenris swirled only to come face to face – or face to hat – with a young boy. Pale blue eyes met his and he suppressed a shudder. This boy was not normal. He reeked of the fade and made his brands itch.  
“Leave,” he ordered the strange teenager. The boy seemed to consider what to say next when another voice interrupted him.  
“Kid? Where did you run off to?” Varric appeared from the second floor, short legs drumming against the worn staircase. Even in this cold weather, he still refused to button up his shirt, it seemed. When he saw who ‘Kid’ was talking to, he stopped abruptly. “Broody…”  
“There you are. If you are fond of this… boy… I suggest you keep him away from me,” Fenris suggested with a hint of sarcasm, all the while keeping one eye on said boy, just in case he tried anything.  
This seemed to kick Varric’s brain back into gear. “Kid,” he said hesitantly while moving forward. “Maybe you should go help someone else, huh? Fenris isn’t fond of… new people.” There seemed to be an ambiguous meaning to that last part, but Fenris let it pass.  
“But, Varric,” the boy whined. “Twisted and scarred. It’s all tangled with the love!”  
“Not now, Cole,” Varric pleaded and the boy disappeared into empty air. Scowling, Fenris finally turned his attention to his old friend.  
“I see you still like to take in strays,” he said.  
“Heh, you didn’t complain when it was you. When did you get here, anyway? I thought Hawke…” Varric didn’t finish.  
“I just arrived.”  
They stood there looking at each other until Varric broke the eye contact and scratched the back of his neck awkwardly.  
“Look, Broody. I didn’t mean for him to drop whatever he was doing and come running. And I really didn’t think he would leave you behind. You guys are practically inseparable these days.”  
“Why did you even tell him about Corifeus? You know how he gets. He always has to fix everything himself,” Fenris scolded.  
“Yeah, I know,” Varric sighed. “Things are just crazy these days and… Look, when I wrote to Hawke we had just barely escaped being slaughtered by that giant wannabe God and his army of lyrium tin cans. We were in a bad place, and Hawke always knows what to do whenever shit hits the fan, so I asked him for help. The Inquisitor is a good man and I don’t believe he would let anyone mess with Hawke, even if Hawke himself somehow let it slip. He is as safe here as Hawke can ever be anywhere.”  
Fenris crossed his arms in front of his chest and scowled even harder. “And this is based on how good you are at judging someone’s character? Does Blondie ring any bells?”  
Varric flinched involuntarily and held his hands up in defeat. “You win, I’m a poor judge of people. He’s in the War room by the way. The Inquisitor and he are discussing our next outing.” “I’ll walk you,” he hastily added as if he was afraid what Fenris might do if left unsupervised in a fortress filled with mages.  
Yes, he had noticed the abundance of robes outside but he had, amazingly, been too focused on his task to pay them any mind before. As long as they gave him a wide berth, he was happy to return the favor. There was no stopping the dwarf, however. He all but took Fenris by the hand and pulled him towards the main building.  
The main hall was still dirty and temporary furniture competed with the raffle over which one would dominate the large area. At the end of the hall, a thorny chair stood alone. It was bright red and the light from the colored window behind it enhanced its menace as well as its appeal.  
Someone was certainly flexing their influential muscles, Fenris thought warily. Such a chair could only be meant to hold the leader of the establishment – the Inquisitor himself. That he felt the need to so blatantly show his power did not bode well, according to Fenris.  
He followed Varric through a door on the left, and entered a small office. A woman in a golden shirt and ebony hair looked up from her desk and greeted Varric with a smile, and Fenris with a silent “oh” when he came into view. She quickly gathered her wits and greeted even him with a polite smile.  
“Good evening, Varric. I don’t believe I have met your friend.” She curtsied before introducing herself. “I am Josephine Montilyet, diplomatic advisor to the Inquisitor.”  
The fact that she had introduced herself so formally, in addition to the expression she’d worn when she’d seen him, made Fenris doubt that the advisor was unfamiliar with him. Or at least his appearance. He did not expect her to greet every stray elf walking in here, covered in road dust, with the same warmth.  
“Fenris. A pleasure to meet you, Lady Montilyet,” he bowed politely and her cheeks darkened with a blush.  
“Yes, yes. We’re just going to have a word with the Inquisitor, Ruffles. Come on, Broody,” Varric pressed on, heading for the other end of the room. Fenris followed less hastily. The adjacent hall was cold and one of the brick walls had caved in. Varric hurried towards the big door at the end of it, knocking, deceptively polite.  
“What is it, Josie?” a male voice called from the other side.  
“It’s me. I kinda need to borrow Hawke for a moment,” Varric called back. Fenris crossed his arms and leaned back against the wall, which was still intact. He schooled his face into its usual empty stare, a habit he still slipped back into whenever he felt uncomfortable around strangers. Or maybe he still did it with his friends too, but they had learned to see past it. He wasn’t sure.  
The door opened and a familiar, beardy face popped out. “What is it, Varric?”  
Said dwarf gestured back at Fenris with his thumb. “Lose something?” He asked cheerfully. Hawke’s amber eyes followed the gesture and looked up. Fenris scowled, and Hawke’s jaw dropped. Then he did the last thing Fenris expected; he slammed the door shut and they could hear his back press against it from the other side, as if he was trying to barricade it.  
Fenris lifted an eyebrow in question as he and Varric exchanged looks. Varric shrugged.  
The first male voice – presumably the Inquisitor – spoke again. “Uh, Hawke? What are you doing? Who’s out there?”  
Fenris recognized the phony laughter which followed. “Haha, I’m just… stretching. Feeling a bit sore these days.” Varric suppressed a chuckle and Fenris rolled his eyes in exasperation. He really wasn’t in the mood for this.  
He stepped up to the door and activated his power to phase through objects, the way he usually did to squeeze someone’s heart without inflicting additional damage. Then he simply walked through the door. Once he was through, he immediately turned back to normal, crossing his arms as he raised a skeptical eyebrow at his lover, who still had his back pressed against the door.  
“I don’t believe that is the most effective way to barricade a door, Garrett. Perhaps a table would be more sufficient,” Fenris suggested sarcastically. Hawke blinked back at him owlishly, or perhaps more like a nug cornered by a wolf.  
“The war table is too heavy to move,” he replied foolishly.  
Fenris threw a hasty glance at the giant table and nodded. “Yes, I believe it is.” He turned to the human man standing on the other side of it, wearing a brown leather getup, and a startled expression. The Inquisitor no doubt.  
“I apologize for the intrusion, Inquisitor. Hawke seems to have decided to be far less discrete than I would have preferred,” Fenris offered in order to avoid any further conflict. Garrett blubbered something incoherent in response, but the Inquisitor ignored him and smirked at Fenris instead.  
“Yes, that does seem to be the case. And I do believe Varric actually managed to describe one of his characters without obscene literary embellishments. You are Fenris, are you not?”  
Fenris nodded.  
“I thought so. I don’t believe I have ever met an elf which could be so perfectly described as ‘mysterious like a moonlit night on a winter landscape.’” Here the Inquisitor’s smirk turn mischievous, and Fenris fought off a frown. He would have to have a word with Varric regarding the liberties he had taken in his books.  
He turned back to Hawke, who seemed to be considering running again. He was silently trying to open the door to sneak through.  
“Don’t even think about it,” Fenris ordered as he marched forward and slammed the door shut again.  
“Hey!” came the exasperated voice of Varric from the hall. “What about me?”  
Fenris ignored him. Instead, he pushed Hawke back against the door and kept him pinned there as they stared at each other. Hawke tried to avoid the eye contact until Fenris grabbed him by the jaw.  
“Festis bei umo canavarum, Hawke! What were you thinking? You already killed the bastard once. Let someone else have their turn,” he snapped and he swore he heard the Inquisitor giggle at that. Hawke gave him the biggest puppy eyes Fenris had ever seen, and that included the time he had been trying to get Fenris to join in a game of strip Wicked Grace.  
“You know me, Fen. I want to have my fun, and what is more entertaining than an un-killable Darkspawn?” Hawke tried to joke. Fenris shook his head before slamming his lips against Hawke’s to shut up any further – no doubt stupid – remarks he was preparing. Luckily it worked just like he’d planned. Hawke was effectively distracted, and Fenris felt Garrett’s large hands come down to grab his hips, pulling him forward as their mouths worked.  
Fenris kept his hands on Garrett’s shoulders as Hawke’s tongue brushed against his lips, asking for entrance. Fenris opened up to allow him in, and Garrett ambled Fenris’ face upward with a hand in his white hair to gain better access. He hummed happily in the back of his throat, and his other hand tightened on Fenris’ hip. Hawke’s black beard tickled Fenris’s face, and he automatically relaxed with the sense of home and safety it reminded him of. All the things Fenris had come to associate Hawke with.  
Someone cleared their throat behind him, effectively bursting his bubble.  
“I hate to be a spoil sport, but maybe you guys should find a room?” the Inquisitor suggested, eyes still twinkling with mirth. Hawke pulled back, blushing profusely, and allowed Fenris to take a step back. “I believe we are finished for today, Hawke. I’m starving, and that show has made me want look up my own playmate.” He winked at them, clearly enjoying their discomfort. They opened the door to leave, only to be faced with the shit eating grin of one Varric Tethras.  
“So, Hawke… decided to let Broody do the sweeping after all?”  
Hawke left the War room with Fenris and Varric looking far more enthusiastic about Fenris’ sudden appearance now than before. The Ambassador offered them an amused smile as they passed through her office again, but Hawke did not seem to notice as he was too busy talking.  
“Have you seen the size of the library, Fenris?” he asked enthused, not even waiting for Fenris to answer before proceeding. “It’s so large I bet you could fit my old one in Kirkwall into it ten times and still have the gang over for dinner in there!”  
Fenris only smirked slightly as he was all too familiar with Hawke’s ranting to bother cutting him off. Hawke’s love for books was something he had gotten from his father, he had told Fenris once. Their love for all things written had been one of the things uniting them, and Hawke still gravitated to literature like a dragonling to a flame. Fenris enjoyed books because of the sense of revenge it offered him. Every time he finished a book it was a slap in the face to all things Tevene, which he found more than a little satisfying.  
“Don’t you think so, Varric?” Hawke turned to his literary partner in crime who offer his characteristic grin.  
“I’m sure you could. You know they even have my series in there? I am not sure if Josie or the Spymaster put it there as a publicity stunt for all the nobles visiting, or what.”  
Fenris rolled his eyes. “Yes, I’m sure the dignitaries have nothing better to do than read romance novels all day,” he added deadpanned.  
Varric reacted with an extravagant gesture, feigning harm. “You wound me, Broody. I’ll have you know that my books sell like butter in Orlais.” The three of them headed for a fireplace in the corner of the Main hall and the dwarf flopped down in one of the chairs adjacent to the warmth.  
Fenris had to admit that the freezing breeze coming from the front door was discouraging him from going back outside again, so he huddled closer to the fire as well.  
“What are you doing? You have to see it, Fen!” Hawke stopped him from sitting down and resting his tired legs, to which Fenris scowled even harder. His lover grabbed his hand and started to pull him towards a rustic door next to them.  
“Eh, Hawke… aren’t you forgetting something? Or someone?” Varric called out rather pointedly. When Fenris looked back at him with suspicion, he was giving Hawke a meaningful look trying to convey something with his eyes. Hawke was looking back at the dwarf with an obviously stricken look, clearly understanding the silent exchange.  
Fenris, feeling that there was clearly something they were trying to keep from him, snatched his hand away from Hawke’s and crossed his arms while planting his feet to the ground. It was what Varric usually called his ‘porky pine look’ and all of Fenris’ spikes were out, pricklier than ever.  
“I do not appreciate being lied to, Dwarf,” he growled.  
“It’s noth –“ Varric started his obvious lie only to be interrupted.  
“Varric was just trying to remind me about someone who usually frequents the library. Someone you probably won’t like by default.” Hawke was attempting to make it sound like it wasn’t a big deal. “We just didn’t want it to catch you off guard.”  
“This entire place is full of mages and that didn’t seem…” Fenris began but then figured out what – or who – would make both Hawke and Varric reluctant to allow him in the library. “There’s a Magister here,” he declared deadpanned and felt his expression grow stone-cold. Varric threw a worried glance at the human who was biting his lip nervously.  
“Technically, he’s just an Altus,” Varric tried to sooth Fenris.  
“Same bird, different feathers,” Fenris snarled.  
“What does that even mean?” Hawke asked looking confused.  
“Every Magister is an Altus, they just wear different robes,” Fenris grumbled which didn’t seem to sooth anyone.  
“Are you going to be ok?” Hawke continued when nobody spoke in several seconds. Fenris’ scowl didn’t waiver one bit and he refused to answer so Hawke continued. “Because ripping his heart out would probably annoy a certain Inquisitor. He’d feel obliged to lock you up or something and that would be very awkward for me since I would have to intervene. Unfortunately, I don’t think people would appreciate it if I killed the Herald of Andraste.”  
“How about I just stay out of the library?” Fenris proposed frostily.  
“Sounds like a plan. Maybe I can bring you some books,” Hawke suggested brightly and leaned in to kiss Fenris’ still furrowed brow, causing Fenris to briefly forget his aggravation.  
After putting the scene away in mental storage for future novels, Varric decided to interrupt the touching moment. “We should go get some food,” he declared and that was something Fenris could heartily agree to. 

Regrettably, the tavern had become more frequented since Fenris was there earlier. Inquisition agents were laughing and chatting loudly and it finally reminded him of the Hanged Man, but a bit cleaner. Varric, Hawke and he found a table in the back but only just managed to get their food before Fenris felt the floor shake as a giant qunari stalked over and thudded down at their table. Fenris tensed but Varric smiled at the giant and even Hawke seemed at ease so he remained in place.  
“So Varric,” the qunari boomed with a wide grin. “You owe me ten silver. I was right about that guard we were discussing yesterday. He was doing it with the cook. I saw them sneak into the pantry earlier today, holding hands.”  
Varric sighed in exasperation but fished up his pouch. “Yeah, yeah. I’m still right about Blackwall and Ruffles, so you better be ready to pay me back.” He tossed the silver at the qunari who happily snagged them before waving a barmaid over for a drink.  
Hawke’s bright blue eyes sparkled with mirth and a crocked smile pulled on his lips as he glanced between the two gamblers. “You bet on peoples’ sex lives? That’s brilliant! Why did we never do that? I could’ve made so much money!”  
“We all know you would’ve ended up betting on yourself,” Fenris muttered with barely hidden amusement. He was finally relaxing again since the giant sat down.  
In return, Hawke grinned even wider and his gaze darkened slightly as it met Fenris’. “I just know what I want.”  
“Meaning you’re like a dog with a bone,” Fenris translated smirking.  
“He was born in Ferelden. They’re all dog people,” Varric added helpfully. Hawke pouted as his friends ganged up on him, while Fenris and Varric both smirked.  
“Where did you leave King by the way?” Hawke asked once he remembered that he’d left his old trusty Mabari King with Fenris.  
“With Aveline in Kirkwall. She was happy to have him back playing with her guards. He was snacking on one of their boots when I left.”  
“Bull!” The four of them looked up as they heard the Inquisitor call out in greeting as he approached. He was still wearing the leather getup – which made him blend in with the agents – but his bright blonde hair stood out like a bright light in the dimly lit room. Behind him, he was pulling a second man with olive skin and impeccably maintained mustache.  
Fenris tensed like a bowstring.  
Varric and Hawke glanced at him worriedly but smiled nervously at the two impending men. “Hello again, Inquisitor,” Hawke greeted them as he scooted his chair closer to Fenris’. “Hello, Dorian,” he welcomed the second man and moved his hand to Fenris’ thigh, rubbing it to sooth him. Unsuccessfully so.  
“You’re all here late. And I definitely didn’t expect to be seeing the two of you until morning,” the Inquisitor said as he sat down straight across from Fenris and Hawke, offering them a sly look. Dorian – the very Altus Hawke and Varric had been trying to keep Fenris away from – sat down beside him giving them the caricature of a startle expression. An expression Fenris wanted to wipe away along with the rest of the head. Instead, he focused on the Inquisitor with laser-like focus, completely ignoring the mage.  
“You postpone lovemaking to hang around this lovely lot? For shame, Hawke. And here I thought you were a man of refined taste,” the ignored mage lectured in his very distinctive Tevinter accent. Fenris’ hands clenched below the table as he tried to keep his markings from lighting up. Hawke moved his hand to cover Fenris’ gently.  
“Oh? Do you include yourself in that ‘lovely lot’?” Varric asked with mock hurt.  
“Certainly not, I have taste. I’m only here because Trevelyan felt the need to refuel. I prefer to drink alone like any self-respecting social pariah.”  
“Yes, yes, we should all feel privileged to have your fine company,” the Inquisitor smiled and bumped his shoulder lightly against the mage’s. If they were betting on sex-lives, he would put his money on those two, Fenris thought bemused.  
“So, what are my favorite troublemakers up to this fine evening?” Inquisitor Trevelyan asked them all.  
The qunari – Bull, Fenris presumed was his name – chuckled and clapped Trevelyan on the shoulder. “The usual, Boss. Betting silver and downing drinks. I just won ten off of Varric.”  
Trevelyan nodded sagely before turning his attention to Fenris, who was still glaring frostily into empty air. “How do you find the place, Fenris? Are the drinks ok?”  
“The drinks are fine,” he responded stiffly and even he noticed the tint of concern coloring Trevelyan’s tone.  
“Have you tasted the drinks? Because if you had you wouldn’t be saying that,” the Altus declared highhandedly with a long suffering sigh.  
Fenris gritted his teeth and Varric jumped in before he snapped. “Don’t worry, Sparkle. Compared to the Hanged Man this is a vineyard. Our tolerance to bad alcohol is very high. This one time I could’ve sworn the bartender mixed the ale with rainwater.”  
“No, Varric. Rainwater would’ve been too clean. It was probably water from a puddle in Darktown,” Hawke added cheerfully. The Altus wrinkled his nose in disgust but the rest laughed.  
“As long as it gets you drunk,” Bull chortled heartily. 

Fenris pushed Hawke down on the bed. Fenris was the only one wearing armor from his journey, while Garret was wearing more comfortable attire – a linen shirt and brown leather trousers. He hit the mattress with a huff of air, and lay there staring up at Fenris with dark hooded eyes.  
During the dinner they had been forced to participate in, Hawke had not been able to keep his hands to himself. His hands had been surprisingly sneaky, for a mage, but then again Fenris already knew he was good with his hands. He had begun the meal by resting his thigh against Fenris’, but as the evening had progressed, he had become less discrete.  
Soon Hawke’s left hand had been trailing up Fenris’ thigh, going from rubbing it innocently to trailing further south in search of more sensitive skin. The beer was clearly inhibiting his usual restraint.  
Fenris had been forced to grab his lovers’ hand before it could reach its target. Once they had finally been able to get back to Hawke’s room, they were both restless and in a hurry.  
Now, Fenris looked down at Hawke as he unbuckled his chest piece and removed his gauntlets. Once he too was more comfortable, he approached the man on the bed who still stared up at him. Fenris placed one hand on Hawkes chest, and felt the heart there beat at a rapid pace. He proceeded to reach for the hem of the shirt. Hawke eagerly lifted his arms to allow Fenris to pull it over his head.  
Fenris searched for any signs of new scars, but was relieved to find none. He placed a soft kiss below Hawkes navel as he proceeded to unlace Garrett’s trousers where a tent was already forming. His kisses trailed lower to follow the edge of the pants before he pulled them down slowly to expose his lover’s underwear.  
Hawke groaned as Fenris retreated to pull the pants off.  
“Unfair,” he complained as he reached for Fenris again. “You have skin to touch when I don’t. I demand more skin.”  
Fenris chuckled and batted Hawke’s hand away when he tried to pull at his clothes. “Consider this payback for the evening’s dinner.” Fenris then proceeded to pull of Hawke’s only remaining garment, revealing his already impatient member. He pushed Garrett’s thighs apart with his knees and stroke his partner’s hips as he came down to press slow kisses at his exposed throat.  
Hawke grunted and tried to grab Fenris again, but Fenris trapped those cunning hands against the bed for now.  
“No touching for you,” he growled in his ear, making Hawke shudder beneath him, but nod in understanding. Fenris allowed his fingers to trail back to Garrett’s chest, and proceeded to slowly make his way north. Hawke had already closed his eyes and angled his hip in search of any kind of friction.  
Fenris grabbed Hawke’s hips and kept him in place as their groins pressed together – only separated by his own trousers. He rutted against Hawke as he kissed and nibbled at his collar bone.  
“Please, please, please, “Hawke whispered under his breath. When Fenris found his sensitive spot behind his ear, he gasped and bucked as if he had lost control of his body. Fenris found himself painfully hard as well and decided that enough was enough. Soon they were both moaning and panting as they moved in tandem.  
Pleasure wrecked through them making Fenris’ marking light up before collapsing against each other.  
“Impossible mage,” he grumbled but with too much warmth and kissed the sweaty shoulder in front of him when Hawke chuckled and snuggled closer.  
“I’m sorry I left you behind,” Hawke began suddenly in a very small voice for such a large man. “I just… couldn’t bear the thought of people getting hurt because of my mistakes and I didn’t want you to have to deal with all of this again.” He groaned and buried his face in the pillow. “You know how rubbish I am at these mushy feelings stuff. I just thought this would be a quick trip and you wouldn’t have to get affected, but I know I messed that up too.”  
Fenris rested his forehead against Hawke’s shoulder blades and silently rubbed his thumb against his stomach where Fenris’ hands encircled the man’s torso. “I can’t say I’m not angry with you for leaving me behind without a word because I thought we were past that. But then again, it was your turn so I can’t really blame you without being a hypocrite.”  
“No!” Hawke spun around to face him, eyes wide. “Don’t ever say that. It’s not a competition and we’re not keeping track. You did what you had to do, and I never blamed you for that.”  
Fenris hummed. “Then stop blaming yourself for this. It simply turns out that while you may be patient enough to wait for me to come back, I will just follow you.”  
Hawke smiled a soft but not entirely happy smile. Fenris’ grumbled when the man snuggled closer and rubbed his nose against Fenris’. “I’m sorry,” he repeated, punctuating the sentence with a soft kiss. “It won’t happen again.”  
“Mm, make sure it doesn’t.”  
Later when Hawke offered to stay behind in the Fade, Fenris stuck by his side. Neither able to live without the other.


End file.
